An Echo Chamber Set To Music | For The People, From M.A.D.

If you couldn’t figure it out by now, “That Guy”, as he was called here on The People’s Vault, is Prince.

And Prince, is one of the greatest songwriters, greatest instrumentalists, greatest artists in general, the world has ever seen.

We were all privileged to experience his gift to the world.

I hopefully did not need to tell anyone reading this these things, but just in case you wondered, there it is, in the most plain language I can muster.

I can recall last year, in the month of April, attending a show by Nicolay, one of my favorite artists of recent (and a devoted fan of Prince), joking about how “sometimes it snows around this time of year”, on a night where it indeed had snowed.

In the weeks leading until the Darkest Hour, dedicated fans such as I, who still kept up with whatever he had been doing, received ominous news about his health, a “scare” if you will, when news of an emergency plane landing had to be made, when he was on tour.

Yet, nothing could prepare for the unthinkable.

On the dismal morning of April 21st 2016, a good friend, my “plug” into the Purple World texted me with very disturbing news coming out of Paisley Park, the home base of the guy whose music had enraptured us pretty much all of our lives: there was a fatality on the property. No other details were available at the time, but the news never got better. Eventually, we learned that the “fatality” was Prince himself. Everything after that was a blur.

I remember struggling to make it through work that day. I had no intention of leaving home that evening, if not for the aforementioned friend of mine inviting me to meet with others who were mourning, over the thing that had brought us together. The music.

I imagine this experience was similar, if not the same, for everyone, who felt the same about the man and his gift, going through that day.

In the year since, there’s been an emptiness that defies description.

I’m of an age where Prince was always a presence in the public sphere, for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories are tied to his songs, knowingly, and unknowingly. On a recent trip to Washington, D.C., as I waited to hop on the Metro train, I listened to Prince, and remembered how it was in that very city that I first really felt “locked in” to his music. My cousin that lived there, had that infamous poster from Controversy on her wall. I heard the key songs from Purple Rain while there ad infinitum. To this day, I wonder how Prince made it through my mother’s “content filter” at the time, considering the things I wasn’t allowed to watch. Even though Purple Rain was relatively tame following the albums immediately preceding it, it was enough to disturb the mothers of “Middle America” at the time to ask to get labels for content added to albums. I remember a nightclub in the sleepy New York town that birthed me, called “1999”. At the point in time it existed, it could not have been a coincidence. One could count on -something- Prince-related to pop up every year, just about. Whether it was any good, was anyone’s guess. But at least it was there. Now, there’s a lot of uncertainty.

Prince recorded music like a jazz artist, for the most part; he has over 30 albums to his name (is it 40? I lost count). For the long-timers, each album came with a hope that he’d found the muse that brought us into the fold in the first place. One of his last offerings, 2014’s ART OFFICIAL AGE, contained a song, “Time”, which while clearly recorded in the present, evoked memories of the off-the-wall, mesmerizing, impactful works of nearly three decades prior. The album itself was a fun ride, but that song? Reminded me, reminded us of what made Prince “Prince”. This guy who would just pull music out of his ear and plop it on the table and leave you amazed. For the first time in a while, Prince seemed like he was less concerned with “fitting in” (a major criticism of his post-Lovesexy work) and back into his own bubble of weirdness that usually lead to something wonderful.

That feeling of “what will he do next” has been missing these last 365 and that may be the worst thing about losing him. Prince was forever about his music, his life’s work. I remember being quite excited for what would be his final tour, his “Piano and Microphone” run. Prince, notoriously forward-looking, was actually opening up, revisiting compositions from early on, adding a personal touch, revealing more of himself than he had ever done until that point. There was even talk about Prince releasing his memoirs to the public. A more “personal” Prince would have certainly been a change over what we had seen up until that point…

Prince’s passing has left, unsurprisingly, a purple haze (pardon the expression). There’s been a lot of reminiscing over 1984, which is cool (I’m not particularly hostile to the “Dove Criers” as some older-heads are), but I do lament that the career surrounding that pivotal year doesn’t get as much love. Not even 1982, which I felt was one of the best years of Prince ever (The Time’s best album. Prince making the “Prince” sound for real, codifying the “Prince” look that everyone thinks of when you say his name, so on and so forth). Not even 1987, 30 years later (Prince got, as we tend to say nowadays, “Kendrick’d” — in reference to the Grammy snub, even though U2 was not as egregious a choice as Macklemore). There’s a lot of weirdness around his estate and the rights to the music both released, and unreleased in his life, and I’m sure some wounds left to be reopened regarding the nature of his death, as investigation goes on. I even lament that it took Prince’s death to get proper copies of the movies in which he starred not named Purple Rain on easily accessible home video. But I should have known that, considering the way things went with him in life.

Thankfully, his music hasn’t left. At least the “streamers” finally have access to Prince’s most pivotal work, the first decade or so on the Warner Bros. label. If there’s anything I could recommend to someone new to Prince, is to start at For You and go forward, until you feel you need to jump off. Because I lived through most of that, it was no problem for me; when I first buying music with my own money, Prince was one of the first I explored. After the nostalgia wore off, I realized that this was someone that was much more than the image and the videos, and the movies. I hope that more of Prince’s music, as released in his life, becomes accessible. Though there is much, much more to sift through, and most of it came during the frankly indulgent era of the CD format, there is much to follow after the “core” period of Prince. More music is certain to come, but it won’t feel the same without Prince’s intent behind it. I’ll enjoy it, buy it, even. But it won’t be the same.

I’ll still listen to the podcasts, join the discussions, consume just about anything I can, related to this guy’s work, because it was just that compelling. Through the work of Prince, I’ve made a lot of unlikely friends, gained a lot of notoriety myself, found a lot of light in the darkness, as funny as that sounds. He will be missed. But at least he had something to leave behind, so that he isn’t forgotten. Surely the record labels will do their part, now that they can move as they tend to do in this regard. But us fans, need to do so as well. The dude is a legend, unfortunately no longer a living one.

So if you asked me, to name 5 albums of Prince (besides Purple Rain, because everyone knows it) that I’d recommend for a starter?

This, of course, is a fairly safe list, which omits Controversy (1981), the Prince album I’ve listened to the most. My real answer is: Start with For You (1978), go all the way to Lovesexy (1988), and don’t forget The Black Album (recorded and originally released 1987, snatched and shelved until 1994). Don’t forget the albums by related acts (The Time, Sheila E., Vanity 6, Apollonia 6, The Family, Jill Jones, Madhouse — so on and so forth).

What about albums after the “golden era”? Well, here are some I’d choose:

Diamonds and Pearls (1991)“Symbol” Album (1992)The Gold Experience (1995)Chaos And Disorder (1995)The Rainbow Children (2001)20ten (2010)ART OFFICIAL AGE (2014)

if you can find things like The Undertaker (1994) or Crystal Ball (1998) with The Truth in tow, add those to the list as well. Some of these will need to be handled with care. The first track of The “Symbol” album from ’92 is one that has no business being there, and IMO, the album really begins with track 2. I also wish most of the Tony M.-related content from the ’90s was removed. But the general feel of these albums are better than what was advertised (even by Prince) in the period.

There is a lot of Prince to go around, so as I always say, if you like what you hear, keep listening.

A mellow, jazzy mid-’80s offering from Bruton, with some great compositions from Ron Aspery, Duncan Lamont, and the venerable Steve Gray and Alan Hawkshaw. Aspery’s compositions, featuring a rather crisp saxophone in front suggest the classic image of lavish living on the beachfront (much like the cover does). The lead guitar on both “On The Beach” and “Man In White” are treats. Steve Gray’s offerings are a little more subdued (if that were possible in a collection of mellow jazz fusion pieces). Duncan Lamont only offers two tracks, like Gray, and “Circles” is exquisite; the lead guitar, similar to those on Aspery’s song, gives the song a little bit of bite.

Alan Hawkshaw handles the entire B-Side; while all of the songs on side A show signs of having moved out of the more “orchestral” sounds of the decade prior, it is Hawkshaw’s portion of the collection that fully embraces the technology that the ’80s have to offer, with a more synthesized sound, for better or worse. Drum machines take the place of a live drum session, the Rhodes piano is put on the shelf in favor of the DX7, and instruments like horns, strings, and harmonica are replaced with synthesizers emulating those sounds. This is not to say that the songs are bad at all — “After Midnight” and “Miami Breeze” are two of the best in the entire set, and the others retain a level of quality associated with Hawkshaw’s playing. Overall, one of the more enjoyable Bruton Music collections, on par with other offerings in the BRD line.

Tempus Fugit comes from a phrase that means “time flies”; and this record, billed as a collection of contemporary electronic music as is par for the course for Bruton’s BRI series, gives that impression, at least from the first three tracks. Every song in this collection was composed by Francis Monkman, one of the more gifted composers of the Bruton Music stable. A number of these songs have been seen in other selections reviewed here, such as BRL 1 Auturbine and BRD 5 Fragrance, but the ones that haven’t, are some of the best in the Bruton catalog. The sinister “Daredevil”, and the well-sequenced “Stress” are but a taste, but the real reason for having this collection starts Side B. “Getting Ready” is an all-keyboard affair with a slow, but still killer groove, and one of those songs that keeps people hooked into library music in the first place. “Mystique” is another slow-burner that takes a killer turn somewhere midway in the song. As the rest collected here, in particular the calm and tranquil “Starlight”, are of a high quality, this is easily one of the better Bruton collections out there, made even better by compiling some of the best work of one of their best composers.

The hallmarks of a great Bruton collection are a heavy dose of nostalgia and some under-the-radar heavy grooves. This is certainly present in BRG 30 Television Today, a collection split three ways between composers Steve Gray, Duncan Lamont, and Jean Bouchety.

Gray’s work here is more in line with his work on BRG 22 Happy Days: more big and brassy than it is jazzy; though that familiar instrumentation with a touch of jazz is there (especially in “Flyaway”), you don’t hear anything like “Barcelona or Bust” or “Dreams of Redcar” (from BRD 14 Soft Sell).

Duncan Lamont, in addition to having one of the coolest names of the composers found on Bruton Music records, contributes some hot numbers to this collection, in particular, “Lightening Strikes”, which perfectly captures that “is it rock? is it jazz?” feeling that while not quite hitting the peak of ’70s fusion-jazz, hit a high that was rarely seen after the 1980s. “The Late Show” will sound undoubtedly nostalgic, as does “Tinsel Town”.

Jean Bouchety handles the entire B-Side, showing a deep proficiency in crafting themes fit for the small screen. “Premiere” and “Tonights TV” are delightfully mid-80s evening program material. However, the real keeper comes right after “Premiere” in “Talking Point”. A mid-tempo number with jazzy ambitions and transitions, this is the one that will garner the most attention out of the set.

Overall, as this is a 1985 collection, the move toward more electronics and brighter sounds are prevalent (like the Yamaha DX-7 that sneaks into some of Steve Gray’s selections, and the Simmons-style drums that are over many of Bouchety’s work); don’t let that detour listeners who prefer the more organic sounds of the late ’70s Bruton collections from missing out on a quality collection.

BRG 15 Spectacle collects a number of all-purpose themes, all about the “big event”. Three composers, Robert Folk, John Scott, and Richard Hill are given multiple selections in this entry, and the results from all there are good to great. Folk’s “Star” and especially “Vegas” are must-listens; “Morningside Drive” and “California Sunshine” are the type of pleasant numbers that Bruton aficionados have come to know very well. The latter especially has an interesting bassline that will grab the listener’s ear. Ron Aspery ends Side A with the fast-paced and brassy “Sport”, which is as much the spectacle this collection seems to sell. John Scott’s “Top Honours” suite has some interesting variations on a theme, that range from classic, upright British brass to a more contemporary number with “wah-pedal” guitar and a disco groove. The theme even carries on into the funky “Places To See”. “Pentathlon” is a lively uptempo number with a trade off between woodwind instruments. “News” and the related “Newsflash” tails are exactly what one would expect, albeit with a late ’70s-style twist in the main theme. The “Ridin Home” pair from Richard Hill is rustic, yet calm and almost a little plaintive, which makes it an especially curious lead-in to the fast and happy “Beach Party” from John Hawkins.
Norman Warren’s “Chasing Rainbows” is a jazzy number that sounds like it may be a little older than its publishing date (but much of the film music of the early ’80s was like this), and things end on a soft, pleasing note with the Roker/Shury number “Odyssey”.

Tracklisting:
1. Love, Call My Name
2. You Got The Power
3. Gimme The Gun
4. Wind And Rain
5. Is It Fire
6. Runnin’ For Your Life
7. In Spanish Harlem
8. Radiation
9. Don’t Take The Money
10. Renegade

Source: Vinyl LPFormat: VBR V0 MP3, FLAC
[View Comments To Listen]

The pairing of Leroy Bell and Casey James, better known as Bell & James, is one of two unsung heroes of the Philadelphia soul scene. Bell’s uncle Thom Bell is a legend of Philly Soul; the duo had written many songs for the O’Jays, Teddy Pendergrass, MFSB, and others on the Philadelphia International Records roster. As what seemed to be customary in the 1970s for people who found success in the background, eventually the work of Bell & James netted them a record deal with A&M, which yielded three records, of which this was the final entry. The duo is best known for the hit that anchored their initial record with A&M, the disco/R&B hit “Livin’ It Up (Friday Night)”. Though they never quite reached those heights again, they did make some good music together, including that which is contained on this album.

One striking thing about their 1978 debut, is that “Livin’ It Up” was a bit of deceptive single; the thought, even by the album cover, was that you might have been in for an album full of disco-burners, but what you really got (perhaps, by virtue of Leroy Bell’s unique voice) was something a little more middle of the road. The same is true for In Black & White. Stylistically, this album is all over the place: disco-style R&B with rock-ish guitar (“Love, Call My Name”), ’60s-style throwback R&B (“You Got The Power”), contemporary uptempo R&B (“Is It Fire”), yacht rock (“Radiation”, “Renegade”, the very Doobie Brothers-like “Runnin’ For Your Life”), and smooth ballads (“Wind And Rain”). To add further to the “yacht rock” cred, the supporting cast assembled for these songs contains quite a few LA studio luminaries: Robbie Nevil (credited as “Little Robbie Nevil” on the inner sleeve), Neil Steubenhaus, Carlos Vega, and the late, great Jeff Porcaro (who handles drumming duties on all but two tracks; though hearing Leroy Bell on “Is It Fire” begs the question of why he didn’t do more of these tracks himself). Each song has its own flair and appeal, and though the style of the songs may not be completely congruent, the arrangement and instrumentation provided give it all a united feel. “Radiation”, in particular, inspired repeat listens, though the lyrics are about as curious as one can get, even when you read them in print. The rarest of the Bell & James trilogy, this album is a worthy listen for those who were already one foot in the door with the mention of the LA studio stars who assist.

Tracklisting:
1. You Don’t Know Me
2. Walking With You
3. My Heart Knows
4. Life Within
5. Thoughts Of You
6. Know That Your Heart Is Right
7. Dianna

Source: Vinyl LPFormat: VBR V0 MP3, FLAC
[View Comments To Listen]

Following Inner City Dreams comes the more pop-flavored You Don’t Know Me, from largely the same cast of players (add Paul Jackson, Jr. on guitar for a number of tracks, and also Harvey Mason on drums on one track). Hearing the instrumental selections, in particular, “Thoughts Of You”, it’s no wonder that “smooth jazz” took off as a radio format, and many musicians who were dipping their toes in that water already, were rushing to have a piece of the action. The resemblance to music that was often peddled by publishing companies for use in adverts, stage, and screen (and often shared/reviewed here) is not lost here either; Pat Coil, who contributes on this album (and has for much of Kenny Pore’s recorded work), has a storied career behind the scenes in said business as a composer. The vocal pieces, again, helmed by the Eric Tagg-like Rick Riso, are the highlights and the hardest lean toward a “pop” sound contained on this album. The most enjoyable of which, is “My Heart Knows”, which, much like “Everyone Needs Someone Like You” from the last item, was an inexplicable omission from Pore’s released anthologies.